Jurassic Park: Terra Sanguinum
by Hugosaurus
Summary: The Five Deaths have been infected with some sort of blood-plague which is bringing the dead back to life, dinosaur and human alike. Few people alive have the knowledge to find the source, and one of them, Dr Ian Malcolm, is suffering from trauma and depression. Rated M for violence and language.
1. Chapter 1 - The Mind of Ian Malcolm

**Jurassic Park: Terra Sanguinum**

Crimson filled the river. It reeked of salt. Salt and death. Something strange, though. No dinosaur corpse floated downstream. The body that washed up on the bank was the mutilated corpse of a human. As raptors surrounded it, something even more bizarre happened. A red cloud surrounded it and it slowly rose. When it was up, it was fully formed, yet its eyes burned with unearthly fire. The being, appearing male, looked at the sun and immediately vanished into the forest, leaving the raptors dead on the floor. As the thing dissolved into shadow, a red cloud formed over the corpses.

**Chapter 1**

Dr Malcolm sat in his office, perusing the morning paper. As ever, he checked for sightings, and yet again, nobody but the usual crackpots had anything to say about giant scaly monsters in the middle of the Pacific. He looked up. The walls of his office were quite dull, only vaguely improved by a small Picasso knock-off (not that you could tell the difference between it and the original). His desk was a coffee-stained mess, the centrepiece of which was a surprisingly expensive computer, surrounded by a sea of Post-Its with equations and sums. Besides the computer, the only other item of major value was a 17th century English bookcase filled with mathematical tomes, as well as a large number of palaeontology journals and books. He heard a knock.

"Dr Malcolm? Your therapy session."

"Therapy? Oh… right. I'm coming."

Malcolm solemnly marched out of his office, into the gloomy, grey elevator and out onto the therapist's floor. He hesitated a moment before knocking, but decided to knock and was let into the far cleaner, prettier office belonging to his therapist, Melanie.

"Ah, Doctor."

"Melanie."

"So, how was the lecture?"

"It could have gone better. The audience were unreceptive, arrogant pricks and my seat was uncomfortable. Besides, the only people who weren't offended by my theories really just wanted to know about New York."

"Ian, why are you hiding?"

"I don't think I am, Mel."

"You are. I can see it. Every minute of every day, you are fighting to avoid breaking down."

"What the hell makes you think that?"

"I see the way you speak, the way you walk. You don't want to let out your pain."

"So I've been through some bad stuff. Doesn't mean I'm clinically depressed."

"Not depressed. I think you are traumatised."

"By what?"

"You went to an island and watched your friends get eaten alive by dinosaurs. You then went to another island and watched more of your friends get eaten alive by bigger, angrier dinosaurs. I think you have never recovered."

"You expect me to just forget it all? I have seen things that you could not possibly imagine."

"You will never forget it, but you have to let go of the past."

"What makes you think I haven't?"

"When was the last dinosaur sighting?"

"Tuesday, a couple of pilots were flying by the Exclusion Zone around the Five Deaths and spotted a Pteranodon flying north."

"How do you know?"

"Oh, you know, it was in the paper."

"But that was quite specific. Tell me, how often do you find yourself checking on the dinosaurs?"

"Only occasionally."

"Really? I somehow doubt that. Tell me the truth."

"Fine. I am subscribed to at least 15 different magazines on the subject. Every hour I check the news for sightings. Yes, I like to keep up to date on the dinosaurs."

"You are obsessed. Afraid. This is classic behaviour for someone with serious paranoia."

"Enough of this, Mel. I am fine."

"Look, Ian, you need help. I have a deal for you. We send you off to rehab, and if they think you are fine, you go home and everything will be ok."

"No! I don't need help."

"Ian. Just try it, what harm can it do?"

"I trust the quacks at rehab even less than I trust you."

"You don't even know them!"

"I am a mathematician. I know many things."

"If you are fine after a day, they will let you go."

"One day. If I am fine after that, I go home. Get it?"

"Got it."

"Good."

"Here's the address. Head down there Monday next week. The course is only a month, and yes, if there is nothing wrong, they will send you home."

"I swear, Mel, if you are wrong I will feed you to the fucking raptors myself."

"Goodbye, Dr Malcolm."

Malcolm stormed out of Melanie's office, out of the building and into a grimy Starbucks where he brooded over an espresso. Clearly, this was going to be a long month.


	2. Chapter 2 - Belly of the Beast

**Chapter 2 - Belly of the Beast**

Professor Rivers' phone started screaming at her.

"Hello? Who is it?"

"Maria? It's Ian."

"Ian? What the hell do you want?"

"Listen, the guys at rehab want me to–"

"Hold up a second! Rehab? Why the hell are you in rehab?"

"My therapist thinks I'm depressed, traumatised and all that bullcrap. Anyway, the doctors want me to talk to my friends, so I called the closest people I had to friends, starting with you."

"First, we are not friends. Second, you can't expect me to help you after what you did."

"What did I do?"

"My ring! It was my mother's!"

"Wait, how did you know?"

"Who else could have stolen it?"

"Stop being such a bitch about it."

"If you don't stop being so rude about it, I'm calling the cops."

"No you won't."

"I will."

"Trust me, you won't."

"Okay, I won't."

"Told you."

"Only joking. Don't drop the soap!"

The phone line went dead. Malcolm rushed back to his room, where he waited for his inevitable fate. How could Maria have betrayed him like that? He had brought it upon himself, yet… even he didn't understand what was going on. He lay on his thin, hard bed for an hour, and did not resist when two very muscular cops opened his door and carried him into their car. The trip was short, and no trial was needed so his imprisonment was swift. Everything went by in a blur for him, and when it was over he was sitting in a cramped cell with a sweaty, unintelligent, beer-guzzling thug.

When a prison guard finally walked past, Malcolm was too tired to shout at him, so instead he mumbled something at him.

"What was that?"

"How long am I in here?"

"Two months. One if you're lucky."

"How did you get me in here so quickly?"

"You really pissed off your friend. She pulled some strings."

"Remind me to kill her when I get out."

"Death threats? That could get you another couple of weeks."

"I know, I'm joking. Besides, prison could be helpful. It's a new environment to study chaos theory."

"That's the spirit, sunshine."

"Don't call me… never mind."

The guard shrugged and walked on. Suddenly, Malcolm heard a sound right behind him. A sound he had not heard since San Diego. He turned. Unsurprisingly, it was not a T-Rex. Instead, it was the angry grunt of an angrier man who had been locked up in this hole for years. Malcolm started calling to the guards in an attempt to move cells, but nobody came. He felt a blow to the back of his head, then... nothing.


	3. Chapter 3 - Access Denied

** Chapter 3**

"Look at these readings, Dan."

The scientist pointed at a small computer with a string of numbers on it.

"Interesting. The Geiger is not picking up anything. What do you think it is, Jack?"

"Looks like it must be a virus."

Dan walked over to the helicopter and said something to the head of the group of Marines. The soldier nodded and started barking orders at his team. In the meantime, the scientists got a large laptop out of their flight case, where they booted up a program that seemed to be some sort of analysing software. They put in a USB with an attachment that contained plant material, and the machine started whirring furiously.

"Well, what does it say?" barked the Marine chief.

"It's not on the medical database. I'll try the InGen one and see if there are any hits."

Dan typed a code into the computer. A green message popped up on the screen, and it began scrolling through a huge selection of files. After a couple of minutes of making strange noises, a folder popped up with the message "Access Denied".

"Dammit. The virus is on their database, but we can't get in." said Dan.

"Is there a password, or is it completely locked down?" asked the soldier.

"There is a password, but it is 68 characters with a fingerprint lock as well."

"We can handle the fingerprint, but the password is up to you two."

"Okay. Jack, you start writing a code-breaker and I'll configure the hardware for a fingerprint check."

Building the fingerprint device did not take long, and the code-breaking software took only a few minutes longer. The Marines had got out a model finger with one of the InGen executive's fingerprints sculpted onto it.

"Why did you bring that?" asked Jack.

"We heard the InGen facilities had special locks, so we brought a special key."

"Okay…"

They activated the fingerprint lock, and Jack's code software got to work. The first firewall collapsed, the second was destroyed, the third annihilated. Finally, a folder opened to reveal a selection of files. Jack opened one of them.

"Holy shit!"

"What is it?" shouted the Marine chief.

"They found something when they were mining for amber. A crystal, clear save for what looked like swirls of blood inside it. It produced some sort of microbe that made the dinosaurs go nuts, so they put it into a secure facility somewhere on the island. The building must have been destroyed, so the crystal is somewhere on the island."

"Is that all the info? There is nothing on how they dealt with the virus?"

"Sorry. Nothing."

Suddenly, they heard a thump. Then another. Falling trees could be heard, and a huge flock of birds screamed away in terror.

"Everyone, back to the chopper! Move it!"

The Marines and the scientists sprinted into the helicopter. It climbed quite quickly. Beneath them, a great black shape crashed into the clearing they had been standing in not moments ago. The canopy meant that seeing it was difficult, but you could not miss a huge, burning eye staring up at you.

"Should T-Rex eyes look like that?"

"Well, nothing in the fossil record tells us about their eye colour, but judging by the pictures of the San Diego Rex, something is very wrong."


End file.
